


The Voice of Night Vale

by nomdeplume13



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 08:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomdeplume13/pseuds/nomdeplume13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short story about Cecil's power, his hatred for Steve Carlsburg, and his love for Carlos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Voice of Night Vale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hikaru9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaru9/gifts).



The woman wore a neat gray pantsuit with a crimson-colored blouse beneath, all of which had been pressed and properly creased with exacting skill. Her long, red nails were well manicured, her hair impeccably styled, her make-up perfectly applied. Though she was likely Carlos's height barefoot, she wore a pair of heels that made her tower over the scientist. And these heels were not delicate little spikes for her to teeter on, but rather a solid, thick heel that he suspected could do a great deal of damage if the situation called for it.

 

He tried not to be distracted by her red nails as she held her hands in a steepled position, elbows resting on the desk, and instead tried to follow her too-dark eyes or her equally red lips. “Carlos the scientist,” she said, sounding akin to his coworkers when they were stating the genus and species of a creature uncovered in this strange town—or rather, what the creature _should_ be but never seemed to truly be any more than anything else here fit into the neat little categories of the outside world.

 

“I am afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” Carlos said. “You know who I am, but I don't believe we have been properly introduced.”

 

She smiled, revealing blinding white teeth with canine teeth more pointed than any he had seen on a human outside of Night Vale. “I am a representative of the town council and station management.” Of both groups? That was surprising, and yet it wasn't. “You are not entirely surprised by that revelation, nor did I expect you to be. It shouldn't be shocking that they often work in conjunction with one another. Or perhaps that they are one and the same.” She wasn't going to give him any answers, it seemed.

 

She lowered her hands atop the granite top of his lab table, fingers still folded and arms still in a V. “They asked me to discuss the matter of Cecil Baldwin.”

 

And through his worry about what this could mean, Carlos found himself reacting to that name like he had his first boyfriend in high school. Level-headed scientist that he was, Carlos recognized the symptoms of being lovestruck, and he was far too happy to care that he was. What troubled him was not his own feelings for the radio announcer but the town council's and station management's interest in the man.

 

“Cecil has the unfortunate habit of getting distracted from his duties as the Voice of Night Vale when he finds himself in a relationship. We noted this before with Steve Carlsburg.” Carlos blinked, and the woman smiled. That simple act—or maybe his thoughts, since there were a number of psychics in this town—had apparently given him away. “Oh yes, Cecil once waxed poetic about Steve Carlsburg's perfect hair and perfect eyes. He was amused by Steve Carlsburg's skepticism, just as he is by your inquisitiveness.”

 

Her lips formed a thin line as she shook her head. “Cecil always falls for those men who are immune to his words.”

 

“Immune?” Carlos asked. He was a scientist after all, and Cecil had seemed relatively normal, beyond what would be expected growing up in Night Vale.

 

“Cecil is the Voice of Night Vale, just as others have been the Voice because they possess the ability to sway the hearts and minds of the people. When he says something, people believe it, or at the very least, their minds become malleable to further suggestion. But Cecil must be focused, and you have caused him to become very unfocused. So the relationship will end.” And with that, the woman stood from the gray stool upon which she had previously been perched.

 

“You are asking me to end it?” he asked, rising to his feet.

 

She moved to clasp her hands at her back. “Oh, no. We will take care of that. This is merely a friendly notice.” She offered him another of her near-feral grins and left his lab.

 

#

 

They couldn't eat together anymore. That was the first thing Carlos noticed. He was a scientist, and he was invested in this relationship, so he wanted to know why. His first best source was his boyfriend. “Is there a reason my chewing bothers you more than usual?”

 

“It has always bothered me,” Cecil said, a small frown forming on his face and his brows gathering close enough to wrinkle his brow. “I mentioned it in passing a few weeks ago on the air.”

 

“I hadn't noticed,” Carlos said, though he had.

 

“Me either,” Cecil said as he settled his head on Carlos's shoulder. “But we've been using that episode for sound check each morning.” And then a thought occurred to Carlos. Perhaps Cecil was as malleable to his own voice as the public at large. Maybe this was how they had gotten him to hate Steve Carlsburg with such venom.

 

“Cecil, do you think it would be possible to get a hold of your old shows?”

 

“Sure,” Cecil said with a grin. “It's really neat you're taking an interest in my work like I am with your science stuff. I'll get you copies of the old masters first thing tomorrow.” Normally, Carlos would tell Cecil not to rush, but he didn't know how much time he actually had before the man would begin to loathe him.

 

Carlos felt a poke to his temple. “You're thinking too loudly.”

 

“Sorry, Cecil. I'll try to be more quiet.”

 

#

 

True to his word, Cecil got copies of his old shows to Carlos the very next day. Originally, he had wanted to listen to the recordings with Carlos, but the scientist opted for a long session of making out and heavy petting, which was followed by the obligatory longer session of completing the “Making Out and Heavy Petting Form A-5.” It had bought him enough time that Cecil had to return to the station for the day's show before they could listen to the recordings together.

 

And then he began to listen. Listening to the most recent recordings and working his way back was like watching an implosion in reverse. Hate for Steve Carlsburg became dislike became annoyed by his habits became finding those habits adorable became thinking the man was perfect. The woman had not lied.

 

It left Carlos with the only possible solution, to contact the man whose name Cecil could barely utter without blatant disdain.

 

“Hello?” asked a deep baritone on the other end of the line.

 

“Steve Carlsburg? This is Carlos—”

 

“You got the break-up notice, too, then?”

 

They talked for at least and hour. Though Steve had moved on to an online relationship with a man working abroad in Hong Kong, he still followed the basic details of Cecil's personal life. According to Steve, about five years ago he had dated Cecil for five months before he got a visit from the very same woman wearing the very same suit, with the very same red nails and lips. He had received his “friendly notice” and been unable to stop it as he watched his relationship crumbling around him.

 

Finding a kindred spirit in someone outside his lab was refreshing for the scientist, and Carlos had begun bouncing theories off of the other man. Together, they agreed the best solution was to play a recording of Cecil saying positive things about Carlos to Cecil on a regular basis. Steve asked if Carlos could, possibly, make Cecil hate him a little less. The indoctrination was probably too strong to hope for more—and Carlos could tell that though Steve had a new relationship, he did still hope for more—but it understandably hurt for Cecil to have such contempt for him when they had once been so close, regardless of any motive to become a couple once again.

 

Carlos began that night, inviting Cecil over for smoothies so there was no chewing involved. He began with the recordings that brought a blush to the scientist's cheeks, where Cecil called him perfect and spoke almost lyrically about his appearance. Almost immediately, there was a change in the other man's behavior. He became more affectionate, and they could soon even start going out to dinner together. He experimented the same with Steve Carlsburg, and saw moderate success. He'd been right about the indoctrination running too deep.

 

Cecil thought Carlos was strange for making him listen to recordings of him saying how wonderful Carlos was, but he was so enamored, in large part thanks to his own voice, that Cecil went along with it. A few times, the scientist tried to convince Cecil of his real role as the Voice of Night Vale and his susceptibility to his own power. Unsurprisingly, the usually chipper and trusting man didn't believe it.

 

#

 

Then, Cecil was kidnapped. The radio station managed to get a mike to Intern Dana wherever she was, and allowed her to do the news for a little over a week. She had even gotten the opportunity to announce that the regular host would be resuming his post. Hearing that Cecil had returned from the abandoned mine, Carlos prepared himself for the hatred. He stood fidgeting in the lobby of Cecil's apartment building. The person—he was not yet committed enough to assign a gender, or even certain if he had a word for the individual's gender to the person behind the sliding glass doors—was staring at him unblinkingly. Carlos nervously looked down at the faux marble floors and waited to be tossed out like so much garbage, or Steve Carlsburg.

 

“Caaaarlossss,” Cecil said before running forward and engulfing the scientist in a hug so warm and so welcoming that Carlos very nearly cried. Cecil didn't hate him; in fact, he seemed to care more for him than he had when he'd been taken.

 

Cecil pulled him onto the elevator and kissed him with far more bravery than he'd even exhibited before. Carlos had typically initiated things between them, from the first date to their first kiss. His lean arms squeezed Carlos tight as the elevator began its ascent.

 

“But... the abandoned mine... I thought you...”

 

Cecil pulled back and smiled. “This is why you work in science and not with words,” Cecil said, teasingly, as the doors opened and he pulled the other man toward his apartment. The gray walls led to the black door Carlos had thought would only be slammed on his face, if he was lucky. The other man opened the door and held the door open for Carlos.

 

“I missed you,” he said as soon as the door shut behind them. “You know, the town council believes I might be immune to my own voice.” Carlos stared at Cecil, knowing that wasn't true. Then, Cecil leaned forward and whispered in Carlos's ear—because the secret police were always listening. “They didn't realize there was an echo in the mine. Every night after they finished trying to reprogram me, I would stay up all night telling myself how perfect you are and how much I love you.”

 

What response could Carlos have to that other than to kiss him?

 

So when Cecil fell asleep against Carlos's shoulder that night, the scientist just lowered his boyfriend's head to his lap. After a whole week without sleep, with nothing but his own voice to keep him company, he deserved it. Cecil was a weird, wonderful man, and Carlos was lucky to have him.


End file.
